


Morning's Warmth

by Cara252



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude wears Dimas clothes and disappears, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dima is a living heater pass it on, Felix also has a potty mouth, Felix appears for five seconds, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Smoll practice fic as daily dose of Dimiclaude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 02:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21384439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara252/pseuds/Cara252
Summary: After the unification of Fódlan under King Dimitri, Claude returns from Almyra, now a king himself, with the intention of negotiating peace and trade arrangements.Old memories are awoken, and Claude’s visit turns into something more.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 246





	Morning's Warmth

Warm rays of sunlight filter through the silk curtains of large, arched windows, falling onto bare skin like a soft blanket to replace the chill of morning frost with a pleasant warmth. Soft woollen blankets and furs retain the lovely heat radiating from the toned body pressed up against him.

The dim light allows Claude’s eyes to adjust rather quickly as he slowly opens them, the drowsiness of sleep clinging to his mind yet still. Sparse light spreads through the room, illuminating it in a faint glow, and creating a shimmer on the golden and silver décor.

The room he finds himself in looks familiar, and it takes him but a few seconds to put a name to it. When memories of the night before begin to return to him, he cannot stop the lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

His head lies on Dimitri’s naked chest, directly above his heart, and Claude listens to the steady rhythm of each beat. He listens to his slow breathing and his soft snores, to the birds chirping outside, and to the servants quietly shuffling past the door.

He remembers a shy confession behind the safety of closed doors when the sun had long set behind the horizon, and the moon and stars shone with radiance in the dark night sky. He remembers hesitant hands and careful, tender touches, the feeling of Dimitri’s lips against his own, knocking all air from his lungs.

How they found themselves falling back onto royal blue sheets before they knew it, all sense or caution thrown to the wind along with their clothes. A night steeped in fiery, hot passion that ignites, adorned by sweet words of affection and promises of the future, spoken in a tone that sent shudders down his spine.

The endearment in Dimitri’s voice, the love in his sky-blue eye as he handed Claude some of his clothes and spare pelts, so that he wouldn’t freeze to death in his sleep.

They were far too large for him. The long velvet pants folded around his feet in a multitude of layers, and the sleeves of the loose white tunic stretched way across his arms, a fair portion of fabric covering his hands and hanging down.

He remembers Dimitri chuckling faintly, attempting to hide his amusement behind the back of his hand, before he finally pulled Claude under the covers with him, glad to become his human heater when Claude snuggled closer for warmth.

Claude feels himself taken back to their academy days. Laying here with Dimitri in his bed, nestled close to him, it is almost like it was all those years ago.

Dimitri had been polite to him from the very beginning while others had spat insults at him, offering assistance to his fellow house leader whenever needed, yet never asking anything in return. Claude considered himself an independent, young man who preferred to fight his own battles, but he had indulged Dimitri regardless, if only to keep up an appearance.

Except Dimitri had found a way past the walls Claude had ever so methodically built over many years, had not broken them down with a hammer, but rather slipped through the tiniest of cracks in slow, gentle steps.

On a daily basis he had uttered compliment after compliment, and to Claude’s surprise, they had been very much sincere. He had not believed him at first. He thought them to be as fake as the rest he received from others, because it was the kind of thing he had been used to.

He had been used to empty words. But Dimitri’s had been full of admiration, full of honesty.

Claude had liked it. Claude had liked Dimitri. He still does.

But they’re older now, more experienced, more scarred than they were before, no longer the innocent children they used to be, and Claude doesn’t disillusion himself with the hope that they can go back to what they once were. War has ripped that chance apart by its very seams.

Still, they can try to be something else, something more.

He cranes his neck back, a few locks of hair falling into his vision, and looks at Dimitri’s face. His features are relaxed, even peaceful, and it’s a stark contrast to his generally strained expression, sharp and tense from the stress of leading and reforming a newly united country.

Claude pushes himself up and kneels beside Dimitri on the mattress, the muscular arm around his waist slipping, falling down onto the sheets. He pushes the sleeves of his tunic up his arm the best he can, then crawls forward on his knees and hands, up to Dimitri’s head.

There’s a scar on Dimitri’s right eye, usually covered by his eyepatch, and he knows that the eye behind the lid is dead, now a milky white instead of the wonderful blue it used to be. It doesn’t bother Claude in the slightest, having his own fair share of scars, but Dimitri was very self-conscious of taking off the patch around him.

Yet the night before, he never stopped reassuring Claude how handsome he was, how beautiful the colour of his eyes was, and how each and every scar was evidence of Claude’s strength rather than a demonstration of his weaknesses.

Claude gently runs a hand over the scar to see how he will react to the contact. Dimitri barely so much as twitches, breath stuttering merely for a heartbeat before he goes right back to snoring.

Claude snorts. Of course, Dimitri has always been somewhat of a heavy sleeper.

He leans down and presses his lips to the scarred skin, kissing the top of the eyelid. Dimitri stirs beneath him once more, and Claude continues placing kisses down his cheek, onto his jaw and throat.

From the corners of his eyes he sees Dimitri’s lips twitch, hears how his breathing quickens and his snoring halts, feels how a calloused hand comes to rest at his neck, and how an arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer. Claude kisses Dimitri’s shoulder one last time before he lifts his head.

“Good morning, my beloved.” The nickname makes Claude’s heart stutter in the most beautiful of ways. When he sits up and meets Dimitri’s gaze, Claude’s words get stuck in his throat at the sheer amount of love he manages to find in Dimitri’s fine eye.

Dimitri looks at him as if Claude means the world to him.

“Good morning, _azizam_,” he says once he has regained his composure. The way Dimitri’s face brightens at the foreign word makes Claude’s heart swell with pride. He had never used any Almyran words back the academy in fear of revealing who he was and where he came from, even to Dimitri. But ever since last night, Dimitri has been soaking up every bit of information and every single word that Claude would tell him.

“What does this one mean?” Dimitri asks while he sits up to get to Claude’s eye level, guiding Claude to sit down on his legs. The blankets fall off them, and Claude shudders at the cold air until Dimitri takes them and wraps them around his shoulders once more.

“It means _my dear_,” Claude breathes out and leans closer, “it means that I love you very much.” Dimitri closes the remaining distance the between them, their lips brushing against each other in slow tender movements. Claude opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, Dimitri responds in kind and-

The door slams open.

Claude breaks the kiss, and twists his upper body around to see who’s interrupted them so rudely. It’s Felix, of course, who stands in the open doorway, looking exasperated which is still a good mood for him if you were to ask Claude. Or anyone, really.

“You’re late,” he grits out in irritation, but there’s no real venom in his voice, “those noble assholes keep complaining, so stop making out and _get up_.” A moment of tense silence passes between the three of them as Felix seems to contemplate if he should address the elephant in the room or not.

“Felix, I can explain!“ Felix just keeps staring at them with a look that tells Claude he doesn’t actually want to know, and the longer he stays the hotter Dimitri’s face seems to grow. A few seconds pass before Felix huffs, and looks away.

“Just shut up and get the fuck up.”

The door slams shut, and Felix is gone. Claude just shakes his head in amusement, perhaps also in disappointment because Dimitri’s daily compliment session ended before it even really began, and gives Dimitri a quick peck on the lips before crawls off the bed and stands. “You heard your advisor, time to rise and shine.”

Claude laughs as Dimitri whines behind him in misery.

**Author's Note:**

> Got nothing to say, for once.


End file.
